A Pony For Your Thoughts!
by ddanne
Summary: Boris sees the opportunity to do a good deed and have a bit of fun! (This is one of my Boris & Annabelle stories.)


I wrote this story after I wrote **Hurricane Watch 2010**. Since **Hurricane Watch** is, for all intents and purposes, complete, I wanted to tweak this story and post it!

Annabelle is a character I created back in the first season of "Royal Pains". If you want to check out the very beginnings of Boris and Annabelle's romance, check out "Boris & the First Invitation".

Enjoy!

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**Disclaimer:** I don't own Boris or any of the "Royal Pains" characters.

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**A Pony For Your Thoughts?! – Chapter One**

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Annabelle couldn't stop fidgeting. She looked out the window of the sleek black Porsche, then at Boris, then out the window again, then back at Boris again. Out of habit, she drummed her fingernails on the armrest. She had NO idea where they were; she could see grass, and trees, and not much else. "Boris, WHERE are we going?!"

Boris smiled indulgently at Annabelle, and shook his head. "Annabelle, I did not give you an answer the first three times you asked the question; what makes you think that I will give you an answer now?!"

"ARGHHHHH!" Annabelle groaned in frustration. "Don't make me drop a house on you, Boris?!" A hint of a smile played across her face.

"Ha!" Chuckling, Boris turned to face Annabelle, relaxing back against the soft leather and propping his arm up along the back of the seat. "A bit dramatic, ja?! Patience is really not your strong suit?!"

"Oh. . .Thhhbbbbbbbbtttt!"

"Oh, Annabelle, Annabelle, Annabelle! You bear very little resemblance to the Wicked Witch of the West, and I am fairly confident that you will not be dropping a house on me any time soon?!"

"Whanker!" Annabelle gave Boris a haughty look, then turned to look out the window. Suddenly, she turned back to face Boris. "Wait. . .what?! Resemblance. . .really?! You think I look like the bloody Wicked Witch of the West?! Bloody whanker!"

Boris chuckled, again; he was definitely enjoying himself! "Ah, Annabelle; ever the drama queen! Do not put words in my mouth, Prinzessin!"

"Hmph?! Where are my flying monkeys when I need them?!" Another fleeting smile.

Returning her smile, Boris gestured toward the car window. "Annabelle, it is a beautiful day! Why can you not just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride?! Consider this. . .an adventure!"

"An adventure?! Really, Boris?! A bloody adventure?! We're in the middle of the bloody wilderness?! And I'm not dressed for the wilderness, Sweet Pea?!"

"Ha!" That started Boris chuckling again. "We are on Long Island, just a few miles out of the Hamptons. Hardly the wilderness, Annabelle?!"

Annabelle glanced out the car window, still seeing nothing but grass and trees flashing by. "Well. . .it looks like the wilderness to me?! If something happened to us out here. . .I would have to eat you to survive?!"

"Well, then, we must take great care to ensure that nothing. . .untoward. . .happens to us out here?!"

"I. . .ah. . .oh, bollox!" Annabelle decided to try another tack; she smiled sweetly at Boris. "Boris. . ."

"Ja?"

"WHY won't you tell me where we're going?!"

"Because, Annabelle, my love, it is a surprise!"

"I HATE surprises!"

"You love surprises!"

"Nooooo. . .I love surprises that come in a Harry Winston box!"

Boris patted Annabelle's hand. "Hold that thought, Prinzessin. Here we are!"

The Porsche turned down a tree-lined lane; when they reached the end of the lane, Boris leaned forward and directed the chauffer toward a weathered white barn. Standing near the open barn door was a pleasant-looking man examining a large black horse. When he saw Boris and Annabelle, he waved.

"Mr. Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz!"

Boris gave Annabelle his arm, and they walked toward the barn.

"Please, call me Boris. Everyone does!" Boris shook the man's hand, and then turned his attention to the horse. "What a magnificent animal!" The stallion was large; Boris estimated that he was at least seventeen hands. His coat was a shiny black, with a white blaze and white feathered stockings.

"He's a Shire."

"I am not familiar with this particular breed."

"Oh, the Shires are draft horses; for years, they were popular for pulling brewery wagons." He glanced from Boris to Annabelle. "They actually originated in England! This fella's bloodlines go all the way back to the days of King Henry VIII and the English Great Horse."

Boris smiled at Annabelle. "Ah! A history lesson, Annabelle. . .in the middle of the wilderness! Fortuitous, ja?!" Annabelle glared at Boris, a frosty smile on her face.

The beautiful Shire seemed to know he was the focus of the conversation; he chose that moment to whicker, and nod his head up and down. Startled, Annabelle took a step closer to Boris. Dr. Fanci signaled the stable hand to come and take the horse.

"Annabelle, this is Dr. Tom Fanci; as you can see, he is a large animal veterinarian. Dr. Fanci is a HankMed patient; he was instrumental in securing Stanley, the little blood sugar canine, for Dmitry Vasiliev! Dr. Fanci, this is Annabelle Duffy."

"Please, just call me Tom! I'm a big fan, Ms. Duffy; I've read all your books!"

Annabelle and Tom shook hands. "Oh, thank you so very much! And you must call me Annabelle!"

"So, what did you think of the Shire?"

"Ah. . .yes. . .very handsome! Very handsome and very BIG! And a little scary. . .but very handsome!"

"Hey, Doc!" Another stable hand called Tom, motioning him towards the barn.

Tom handed Boris a folder. "Here's your paperwork. We have a mare ready to drop a foal; I need to go and check on her. I'll meet you back over at the paddock."

They watched Tom walk back toward the barn; when he was out of earshot, Annabelle started peppering Boris with questions.

"All right, Boris, what is going on?! Why are we here?! What's in that folder? Are you buying a horse? Oh, dear God. . .are you buying that gargantuan black horse?!"

"Nein, I am not! He is a beautiful animal, but, as I do not own a brewery, I have no need for a draft horse!"

"Boris?!"

In spite of Annabelle's rising frustration, Boris was still smiling. He offered his arm to Annabelle. "Come!"

Annabelle shook her head. "NOT until you tell me where we're going, Boris?!"

"We are going to the paddock, to await Dr. Fanci, as he requested." He offered his arm one more time. "Bitte?"

As they walked down to the paddock, a dapple gray Shetland pony stood at the fence, silvery mane and tail ruffling in the breeze.

Watching them approach, the pony started to whinny, feet shuffling nervously. Boris was a horse lover; he immediately grasped the pony's halter, talking softly and scratching the pony's nose. The pony started to settle down, but continued to watch them warily.

"Well, Annabelle. . .what do you think of your pony?"

Annabelle wasn't quite sure that she had heard Boris correctly; she opened her mouth to respond. . .but no words came.

Trying to contain his laughter, Boris fixed a bland look on his face. "Annabelle, you appear to be. . .ah, what is that word you taught me? Gobsmacked, ja?!"

"I'm looking at gobsmacked in the rearview mirror, Boris?! You bought me a pony?! Really?! REALLY?! Boris. . .WHY?! I was JOKING! You know I was joking! I TOLD YOU I was joking?!"

"Hmmmmm. . .I recall our, ah, 'negotiations' in great detail, Prinzessin! And you were quite. . .insistent?!"

"OK, our 'negotiations' CLEARLY clouded your judgment?! Boris, there's a REASON I don't have pets. I can barely keep my house plants alive?!"

"Hmph?! I thought every little girl dreamed of having a pony?!"

"Not THIS little girl?!" Sheepishly, Annabelle looked at the silvery gray pony, then back at Boris. "I actually wanted a steeplechaser!"

Now it was Boris's turn to be surprised. "A steeplechaser?! Annabelle, you cannot ride; what on earth were you planning on doing with a steeplechaser?!"

Annabelle sighed and nodded her head. "Believe me, Boris, I appreciate the incongruity?!" Reluctantly, she smiled, and shrugged her shoulders. "Someone had given me a copy of 'National Velvet'. I SO wanted to BE Velvet Brown!" Annabelle shook her head, and raised her hands in a gesture of futility. "Boris. . .WHAT am I going to do with a pony?!"

"Well. . .first, you must introduce yourself!" Boris spied a pail filled with apples and carrots sitting outside the paddock fence; Dr. Fanci had thought of everything! He picked up a few apples, and turned to Annabelle. "Give me your hand, Prinzessin." Boris put an apple in the palm of her hand. "Just hold your hand out, and let the pony take the apple."

"Boris, if this pony eats my hand, we're NEVER going to 'negotiate' ever again?!" Annabelle gingerly put out her hand, and the pony cautiously started munching the apple. Annabelle turned, and gave Boris a tentative smile. Suddenly, her face changed.

"What is wrong, Prinzessin?"

"BORIS! He's slobbering all over my hand?!"

Relieved, he shook his head and smiled. "SHE, Prinzessin."

"What?!"

"She. The pony is a filly; a female."

"I wasn't looking at his private parts, Boris?!"

"HER private parts! Feed her the other apple, Prinzessin."

"Boris?!" Reluctantly, she fed the pony the other apple. She hesitated, then, with her other hand, gently started scratching the pony's nose.

"I think she likes you, Prinzessin!"

"Hmph?! She has a strange way of showing it, Boris?! I have a handful of pony slobber?!"

Chuckling, Boris handed her a crisp white linen handkerchief, monogramed with his initials; Annabelle took the handkerchief and wiped her hand.

"Boris, you never did answer my question."

"What question is that, Prinzessin?"

"She's a perfectly. . .lovely. . .pony, but WHAT am I going to do with her?! Where am I going to put her? You don't have stables at Shadow Pond, and she certainly can't live on my dune deck?!"

Boris was feeding a carrot to the pony, and didn't answer immediately.

"Boris. . .did you REALLY buy this pony for me?!"

"Ja, Prinzessin; you are now the official owner of this pony. By the way, you must provide her with a name."

"Desdemona."

"Oh, well. . .that was swift?! Was that the name you had chosen for your steeplechaser?"

"No; I was going to call him Tipperary?!"

"Then, pray tell, how did you choose Desdemona?!"

Annabelle chuckled. "Oh. . .it was something I hadn't thought about in YEARS! One summer, when we were. . .perhaps, ten, my friend Charlotte and I were going to run away and join the circus! We were going to wear sparkly costumes, RED sparkly costumes, with feathers in our hair, and we were going to ride a big white horse named Desdemona!"

Boris stretched his arms out to the side, then crossed them over his chest. "That is fascinating! And what daring feats were you going to perform on this horse named Desdemona?"

"Oh, Boris. . .we were TEN?! We spent most of our time arguing about our costumes. . .and then we decided that we were going to be astronauts?! We forgot all about poor Desdemona and our circus careers?!" Annabelle shook her head in frustration, and pointed to the dappled pony. "Now, what are WE going to do with THIS Desdemona?!"

"Well, as I stated, Annabelle, Desdemona now belongs to you. You can do with her what you please?! BUT. . .I MIGHT have a solution to your. . .conundrum?!"

Annabelle opened her mouth to respond, and then closed it again. Suddenly suspicious, she studied Boris for a moment before she responded. "So, what is this solution, Boris?"

The corner of his mouth quirked into a little half-smile. "Ah, yes. . .the solution!"

"I'm listening, Boris!"

"There is a school in Montauk, the Anderson School. It is a home for mentally challenged individuals. Among the many programs they offer is an animal therapy program. If you were so inclined, you could make a gift of Desdemona to the Anderson School; I am sure that she would be a great asset to their animal therapy program. She will keep her name, and you may visit her any time you wish."

Annabelle considered Boris's proposition for a moment. "Hmph?! I don't know whether to slap you or kiss you, Boris?! This was your plan all along, wasn't it?!"

Boris chuckled, and put his hands up in surrender. "Ja; guilty as charged!"

Annabelle shook her head. "I. . .I'm just. . .speechless, and I'm NEVER speechless?! I mean. . .how. . .when. . .how did. . .did you. . .bloody HELL, Boris?!"

"Ha! You have many questions, ja?"

"Ohhhhh. . .many, MANY questions?!"

"And. . .would you like answers to any of your questions?"

"Ah, yes, Boris. . .ALL OF THEM?! And you're enjoying yourself entirely too much!"

"Ha! Perhaps I am!" Annabelle stuck her tongue out at Boris. "All right, Prinzessin; you shall have your explanation! It was really quite simple. The week following the hurricane, I attended a charity luncheon. Dr. Kate MacLaughlin, the director of the Anderson School, was also in attendance. She is a longtime acquaintance. We spoke; when she told me about the animal therapy program at the Anderson School, I saw the opportunity to do a good deed AND have a bit of fun! Hank put me in touch with Dr. Fanci, and. . .voilà! We have Desdemona!"

Annabelle shook her head in disbelief. "Well played, Boris!"

"Danke schön!"

"Now. . .what do we DO with our Desdemona?!"

"We need do nothing, Prinzessin. Dr. Fanci has made all the arrangements; Desdemona will be delivered to the Anderson School later this week." Boris held up the folder. "We simply need to sign these papers and return them to Dr. Fanci."

"Perfect! Then you BETTER be taking me to lunch?!"

"Of course, Prinzessin! I have cleared my schedule for the entire afternoon!"

"Good!" Annabelle turned back to scratch her pony on the nose one last time. "Perhaps. . .after lunch. . .we can find something else to. . .negotiate?!"

"Sehr gut!"

As they started to walk away, back toward the barn, the dappled pony started to whinny. Annabelle turned around to see what was wrong. "Boris, I don't think she wants us to leave?!" She put her hand on Boris's arm, stopping him. "Should we do. . .something?!"

Boris could see concern in her eyes. He took her hand and gently kissed it. "Annabelle, you have a very kind heart, but I promise you, your pony will be fine! In a few days, she will be safe in her new home. She will be well taken care of, and she will be loved! We could go to the school next week, and visit her; would you like that?"

Annabelle gave Boris a grateful smile. "Yes, I would; very much so! Thank you, Boris!" Annabelle was still fretting, watching her pony. "Look at me! I've owned a pony for five minutes. . .and I'm suffering from separation anxiety?!" Then, without warning, the dappled pony turned, and ambled away from the fence. Surprise flashed across Annabelle's face. . .and a little disappointment. "Look, Boris; our little girl is all grown up?!"

This brought a chuckle from Boris. "Indeed! We can now depart with a clear conscience, ja?!"

Annabelle sighed in resignation. "Yes, Boris!" Annabelle glanced at her wristwatch. "And it's lunchtime. . .AND I'm starving! It must be all the fresh air and sunshine out here in the wilderness?!"

Chuckling, Boris held out his arm to Annabelle. "Would you like to return to Shadow Pond for luncheon, Prinzessin?"

"Oh, no, Boris! We're going OUT to lunch; you're taking me to Red Stripe!"

"Red Stripe? I am not familiar with this restaurant."

"It's new. . .and it's FABULOUS! And if you're willing to, ah, 'negotiate', I might even pick up the check!"

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There is at least one more chapter coming. If you enjoyed the first chapter – I would really appreciate some feedback! THANK YOU!

(And Red Stripe is a real restaurant, but it's in Providence, RI. The food is really good, and I love the name; I just had to use it!)


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